This is the story of a 7 year-old girl living in 1992. She is the third child of a hard- working couple, both teachers and writers, lovers of paper and ink.
Her favourite time of the year is all year round as she lives in her own imaginary world with her imaginary friends and all the seasons are fun in her heart. As the third child, she has to rely on her wits and skills to learn and grow.
In her bubble, December is the month of music played in the playground in school at morning time and in between classes. It is also the month of walking bare feet on carpets at home and waiting for the festivities to begin. Such a delightful beginning with costume design and role play, boiled wheat mixed with sugar and katayef (sweet cream on oriental pancakes with honey). December is the month of reading texts and poems about helping the poor. It is the month of learning songs about Santa and the reindeer, that silent night and that evergreen tree. December is about attending events here and there in town for gifts’ distribution and oh how that make her feel!
This little girl was never told the magic story of Santa and she was not asked for wishes. She decided one night to write a letter, a list of gifts that she hanged on the tree. Knowing that it would still be there in the morning, she did it anyway to warm up her heart and keep the magic sparkling.
On Christmas eve, she would wait and wait and wait for those jingle bells to ring in the streets and she would wish so strongly for that sound to come up slowly on her house stairs and to knock on her door. She would wish for her name to be written on one of these wrapped boxes. It happened a couple of times and oh how that made her feel!
In 1992, December is the month of tests in school, but it is also the month of crafts to take home. Colours of red and green mixed to white cotton and glue. It is the month of the long winter break when she would stare at the tree lights shining in the dark until she falls asleep. She would pretend to fit in that tiny nativity scene where things looked so warm and calming. She would hide there and sleep.
The story of that girl from 1992 is meant to take you back in time for few breaths long, and to make you meet with your younger self who was happy celebrating the season. This story is to make you think on how you feel today about the holidays and if the magic and warmth of December are stronger than bills, deadlines, shopping and political debates. This story is not about religious holidays and beliefs it is just meant to be a reminder of happy thoughts that you lived, and a wake up call out of a much realistic and busy adult life.